Friday, March 16, 2012
Perhaps this post is not too much of a departure, because this little elephant does make my soul feel happy. I know he's just an object. He doesn't have any special powers or anything, but he is magic in a way. He brings joy wherever he goes.
Of all the object my parents own, from my childhood, this was the one item I have always said, I want to own it "when the time came". Kind of a morbid thought, I know, however, I figured if I didn't say something to my mom about it, my sister would end up with it and she could never cherish it like I do.
Yes, he's just an object, but really, he's so much more. He represents the happy moments of my childhood. He also represents consistency to me. See, when I was a young child, we moved about eight times, that I can remember, finally settling in one place by third grade. Everywhere we moved, every trailer, rental home and house we lived in, that cookie jar came along and found a place in my mom's kitchen. I enjoyed looking at his bright smile and his outstretched arms awaiting a hug. He fascinated me so.
His hat was broken at some point. Probably from me sneaking a cookie when I wasn't supposed to be in the kitchen at all. Or maybe in one of our various moves, he was damaged, but Mother glued his hat back together, and he kept on smiling and waiting for hugs.
His imperfection and brokenness reminded me of myself. I have some chips and cracks and some places that have split apart altogether, but it's okay because I'm still me, and the cracks are barely noticeable. The brokenness and repair not only in cookie jars, but also in our lives gives us character, makes us unique and add to the story of our lives.
This cookie jar is as good as worthless on the open market because he's not flawless, or "In Mint Condition" as the vintage dealers say. To me, however, he is priceless. A reminder of times gone by, simpler times, an era in my childhood when sneaking a cookie was the biggest worry of my day. I am so happy that my mom gave him to me now so that I can enjoy him in my own home. He has a new resting spot, a prominent one, sitting on a glass enclosed shelf in my kitchen.
He's protected from getting broken again and he no longer hold cookies, but he holds a special place in my heart. Every day I get to see his smiling face and his hugging arms. I will also also remember, with great fondness, the words my mom said when she gave him to me - "I wanted you to have it now." Six little words that meant so much to me when said, because I knew, that she knew, how much it meant to me and she wanted to give me the joy she knew he would bring me.